His Lost Lycan Luna (Kyson and Ivy)

“And what if I don’t want you to?”

“It’s not up to you, I told you already. You are mine; I meant that Ivy, I won’t let you go again,” I told her,

becoming annoyed that she dared challenge our bond. I didn’t understand what she wanted. She wanted

the bond. I broke it, and now I am trying to fix it. What more does she want from me? I can’t go back and

take it back.

“Until you find something else to hate me for. Or I do something you don’t like, then you will cast me

aside because you can, and there is nothing I can do about it,” she murmured.

“You hurt me,” she whispered so softly I nearly missed it.

“I didn’t mean to break your hand Ivy, I didn’t know it was there,” I snapped at her; I b****y healed it, for

g*d sake.

“I’m not talking about my hand, Kyson. I know you didn’t do that on purpose.” I growled, annoyed,

shaking my head.

“You think broken bones hurt, scratches, wounds that refuse to heal for months on end. They hurt, but

they also mend when the skin closes over. After you’re left with a scar, a distant memory of what was

once painful. Yet that hurt ends,” she pauses, and I pick up my glass, draining the last of it about to break

the handle and drag her out, tired of playing these games of hide and seek. Standing, I went to grab the

handle when she spoke again.

“Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to allow yourself to trust someone, only for them to throw it in

your face?” I paused, wondering what she was on about now.

“Are you going to finish, or are you going to make me guess?” I asked her, gripping the door handle; the

metal creased as my grip tightened around the brass k**b.

“I trusted you; I allowed myself to love you despite knowing better than to get my hopes up. Mrs. Daley

taught me to know my place, and you made me believe I could find that with you. That I was free to

choose that place. Freedom. My version of freedom for years was d***h. I was ready to d*e on that

podium that day, be set free. Convinced it would be better than the life handed to us. Then you showed

me another sort of freedom,” I paused, letting go of the door handle. My fingers creased into the metal as

I stared at the door.

“I realized I was never living. We were already d**d waiting for our vessels to d*e, and you gave us our

names back, our lives back, for a while anyway. Then just as quickly as you gave it to me, you took it

away. The ultimate puppet master with a g*d complex I can’t compete against. You took it, and I wished

for freedom again. I wished you left me to d*e that day; it would have been the more humane thing to do

than give me hope only to show me how foolish it was to have it in the first place.” My heart twisted

painfully in my chest as I felt the truth behind the words she spoke.

“Now that is pain, and nothing haunts me more than knowing you have the power to send me back to a

place when the only freedom I will long for is d***h,” I bit my tongue and swallowed, feeling guilty.

“I made a mistake. I blamed you because you were there to blame, not because you did anything wrong.

I see that now,” I tell her.

“I get why you hate me Kyson; I am the by-product, the spinoff version of my mother-“

“You are not your mother,” I tell her cutting her words off. That much, I was sure of. Ivy laughs, and my

brows furrow.

“My mother was a monster. Therefore I am,”

“No, you were just her last victim, only you survived to live with what she took from you” I tell her. She

falls quiet. Yet I meant the words I spoke and wished she could feel me the way I feel her guilt and

heartbreak.

“You have your freedom with me, Ivy,” I tell her.

“Prove it,” she murmured. I sighed, wanting her to come out, to stop ignoring me because it was driving

me insane. Ignoring my own instincts to drag her out, kicking and screaming and forcing her to submit to

the bond.

I sat back down and let her be, instead, picking up the book and continuing to read to her. She fell quiet,

and after a few chapters, I heard the door unlock, making me look at it before the handle twisted. Her

scent wafted to me as the door cracked open, and before I could muffle it. The calling slipped out, my

purr resounding yet not forcing her, leaving her choice, just enough to coax her out if she chooses.

Letting her know I mean no harm, so I let it be instead of stifling the sound. I heard her bones cracking

from lying on the hard ground and felt the ache to go to the comfy bed.

Glancing up at her, she had an armful of my clothes, her werewolf side reappearing stronger no matter

how much she fought against it. At least she had changed out of the wet clothes and was now wearing

one of my shirts. The bond was reforging and solidifying despite her attempts to ignore it. “You can take

them to the bed, or you could let me sleep next to you,” I tell her, and she walks partway to the bed

before stopping and glancing between the bed and me like she was fighting against what she knew she

needed and wanted. Her urges are all over the place. I remained still as much as it k****d me to do.

“You won’t use the calling on me, I mean no more than you are now?” she asked, and I could feel her

uncertainty. Yet she hated the calling as much as she liked it.

“No, but I can’t help it sometimes. It reacts to your emotions,” I tell her. Ivy chews her lip and nods once

before moving toward the bed again. She climbs in, dragging my pile of clothes with her to burrow down

in. I sighed before turning the next page, expecting to sleep on the couch when she spoke.

“You can sleep in the bed,” she said, and my eyes fitted to hers. My eyes flickered, and I heard her heart

rate pick up. My skin rippled as I stood, my instincts becoming excited that she was letting me near as I

moved toward the bed before crawling in beside her and reopening the book. Ivy moved closer, her

claws scraping down my ribs as she wiggled closer to see the tiny pictures in the corners of the pages.

Fighting the urge to drag her on top of me, I continued reading content enough with her beside me.